


The Survivor League

by Snegurochka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-12
Updated: 2011-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:39:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snegurochka/pseuds/Snegurochka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The main problem with the Survivor League, as far as Draco was concerned, was right there in the name. It was pretty hard to run a postwar mentoring program when anyone over the age of eighteen who understood what had actually happened in that fucking war was either dead, in Azkaban, or had disappeared without a trace.</p><p>11,000 words. Snape/Lupin & Neville/Draco. R. They-lived!AU. Written for snupin_santa. December 2011.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Survivor League

**Author's Note:**

> Written for zephre at the 2011 snupin_santa exchange on LJ, who asked for fic about a postwar mentoring program, and for some Neville/Draco in the background. It was nice to return to Snape/Lupin writing, my original OTP, after about 3 years away from it, and to try some Neville/Draco for the first time. :) Thanks to the mod, westernredcedar, for her infinite patience with me when my Snupin muse just wouldn't come back after so long away. This is AU only in that Snape and Lupin survived the war.

***

The main problem with the Survivor League, as far as Draco was concerned, was right there in the name. It was pretty hard to run a postwar mentoring program when anyone over the age of eighteen who understood what had actually happened in that fucking war was _dead_.

Well, no. Maybe that was too harsh. Some were in Azkaban, after all. Others were just injured or mauled. Then there were the few – Draco clenched his fists as he thought of one in particular – who had simply disappeared without a trace, no matter how many owls Draco tried to send, leaving him to make small talk with idiots like –

"So, um, how's your schoolwork going?"

Draco picked up his empty sugar packet and proceeded to pick at the edges, spraying stray granules over the corner table, and then moving his water glass over them to make sure the condensation made it all nice and sticky. "Fine."

"Good, good. That's good. Have you, uh, given any more thought to careers?"

"No." He ripped the top off a new package, added half of it to his coffee, and then leaned his head back and tipped the rest in his mouth.

"Right. Well, ah, you still have time. And... how are you feeling about... the war? Any nightmares?"

Draco raised his eyes at last, levelling the idiot with his best glare. "All the fucking time," he said slowly. "Should we analyse them? Oh, wait." He leaned back in his chair. "Your pay grade isn't high enough for that shit, is it?"

"Now, Draco–"

He leaned forward. "You should probably call me _Mr Malfoy_. War or not, I could still buy you if I wanted to."

He'd been through seven mentors in the past month. McGonagall was going to be _livid_. Well, what did she expect, setting him up with random Hufflepuff parents who thought all he needed was a cup of tea and a hug? This time, the man quit by throwing his napkin on the table. "That's it," he muttered. "You're a hopeless little brat, has anyone ever told you that? Mentoring Death Eater kids. Jesus! Not worth my time." He stormed out, the little bell on the café door jangling after him.

Well, that was almost _obscene_ language for a Hufflepuff. Draco picked up the sugar packet again and tore at the edges, smiling to himself.

***

Through the darkened shadows, Neville saw the twist of their faces begin to emerge. Horrible, wrecking branches thrashed in a violent storm, but the faces didn't know to stay away. They wavered but couldn't stop coming. Neville shouted at them to get back, get _back_ , dammit, but the branches were joined by vines, then thorns, then twisted, gnarled roots snaking out across his vision.

He couldn't stop running.

He tripped, trying to reach the faces and also get away from them, people shouting in his ear and hysteria filling his mind. Everyone was screaming. The thorns pressed into his sides, and the vines wrapped around his torso, and the _faces_ , why didn't they back away? Why didn't they see? He was face down in the mud, screaming and pounding his fists, when –

He woke up.

Gulping for air, his hand clutched his chest as his heart tried to hammer right through it. He lay stock still in his bed, frozen and terrified, for several long minutes before he could convince himself it wasn't real. It was just a dream. He was okay.

It was over.

On trembling legs, he took down the charms he put up around his bed every night and climbed out, careful not to disturb the other eighth-years in their makeshift dorm. He padded to the bathroom for some water, then splashed his face and let his fingertips linger over his cheeks as he raised his eyes to the mirror. His hair was on end and he had deep circles under his eyes. Pale in the dim light, he looked... haunted. He hardly recognised himself. Squeezing his eyes closed, he threw another handful of water over his face and shook it off, running his hands up through his hair as he straightened.

This was ridiculous. The war was supposed to be over. So why did every day – every _night_ – still feel like a sprint to get away from the bad guys?

***

"Order! Order, everyone. Please, find your seat."

Held at her throat, McGonagall's wand magically enhanced her voice as the group before her settled in, some balancing teacups and biscuits and watching her expectantly, others looking down at the floor as if hoping it would swallow them up.

Draco fit neither of those groups. He wasn't feeling social enough for the former or despondent enough for the latter. He wondered when those had become the only alternatives. He glanced around. Potter was too good for a chair, apparently, standing against the back wall with his arms crossed over his chest in a mirror of his mentor, Shacklebolt. Draco narrowed his eyes. Lucky bastard. Huddled in chairs near the side of the room were his aunt Andromeda and Lovegood, that blue-haired baby in her arms; Madame Pomfrey with Granger; Bill Weasley with his brother the Weasel-King; and several other pairs scattered around the room.

Draco was the only one without a mentor – again. Fantastic. Wait, no. There was Longbottom, sagging in the corner like a corpse. God, he looked fucking dreadful. For a brief moment as Longbottom looked up at McGonagall's announcement, he caught Draco's eye. When he didn't look away quickly enough, Draco gave him a mock salute. That earned him a tiny, puzzled smile before Longbottom ducked his head down again, rubbing at his eyes.

"Welcome back, survivors," continued McGonagall in a clipped voice, looking severely around the room. Would it kill her to crack a smile? Draco sat back in his seat, fiddling with the sleeve of his robe. "Our first order of business today is recruitment."

She couldn't help but glance at Draco and Longbottom. Draco glared back at her.

She didn't back down. "Mr Malfoy," she said through clenched teeth, "is proving difficult to match, and we are running out of options."

Draco smiled.

"And Mr Longbottom–" she turned those sharp eyes on him – "has been without a mentor since the beginning, unfortunately. We just don't have enough volunteers, and–"

"Oh, no, Professor, it's okay," mumbled Longbottom. "I'm fine."

She cut him off with another death glare. " _Every_ student with a stake in the Battle like you had needs to be part of this program," she said, brooking no argument.

"Anyone who wants to join Auror training is welcome on my team," offered Shacklebolt from the back of the room, giving Longbottom a kind look. Potter, like the sycophant he was, followed Shacklebolt's gaze, nodding excitedly at Longbottom.

Longbottom quickly looked away. "Oh. Thank you, sir. I know. I...just..." He sighed. "I'm not sure. I'm sorry."

Shacklebolt shrugged. "All right. But you'd be brilliant, son. Make your parents proud, you know. Anytime you change your–"

"He said no," snapped Draco, surprising himself. But he held firm, even though he couldn't quite meet Shacklebolt's eyes. "God, not everyone wants to be a fucking Auror, you know."

"Mr Malfoy!" said McGonagall.

"I'm just saying."

"Oh, and you've got such great career plans, Malfoy?" Potter shot back.

"Mr _Potter_."

"Sorry, Professor, but I don't know why he's even here. He only makes all our mentors quit, so then we don't have enough for people like Neville. It's not fair."

"Really," muttered Longbottom again, "it's okay. I don't need–"

"Oh, silence, Mr Longbottom," said McGonagall, rubbing her eyes. "And you too, Mr Potter."

Draco glanced around the room to find them all looking at him.

"Mr Malfoy, what _are_ we going to have to do to change your attitude about this?" she asked, but her voice was less severe. She almost looked... sorry for him. " _Do_ you want to be here?"

He scoffed. "Of course not! You're _making_ me."

"Would you rather be in prison with your father?" Aunt Andromeda said quietly, steeling her gaze on him, and Draco lowered his eyes, his heart beating faster.

" _No_ ," he muttered. "Obviously."

"Minerva," she continued, "I can work with him. Luna's doing wonderfully." She smiled at Lovegood, who beamed back at her, even as she absently braided what looked like a piece of hay into her long hair. "We can take Draco on as well."

"No relatives," McGonagall said briskly, sighing when everyone in the room raised a brow at Bill and Ron. "That's different."

The _difference_ , Draco knew, was that Bill Weasley was a no-nonsense, tough-talking, mad fucking _cursebreaker_ who'd taken on Fenrir Greyback and lived to tell the tale. If he couldn't get his brother's head out of the war and back into society, no one could. It was a manliness thing. They wanted Draco to have some sort of masculine war hero to look up to. He sighed. Unless he wanted to join the Aurors, that wasn't likely to happen.

McGonagall looked tired. "I'm just not sure what else to do," she admitted, to Draco's surprise. "We're using all the resources we can." She looked at each of the students. "We _want_ you all to succeed, of course. We need you all to be healthy and happy."

Draco slumped back in his chair. His head lolling to the side in boredom, he caught Longbottom glancing at him and gave him a small smile, rolling his eyes towards McGonagall. Longbottom bit down over a grin.

Suddenly, a new voice filled the room. "Minerva," it said, slow and deep. Everyone fell silent, and McGonagall closed her eyes briefly before turning towards the wall behind her.

"Albus," she said, inclining her head.

"You know the answer. We have had this conversation before."

But she shook her head. "No. I won't do that."

"You must."

"They've been through enough, Albus. They deserve some peace."

"We need their help."

"We don't even know where they are!"

Draco's heart pounded. He didn't know who _they_ could be, in the plural, but he had his hopes up about one person in particular who had disappeared after the war. Was it possible Dumbledore's bloody portrait knew where he was?

After a silence, Aunt Andromeda spoke again. "I know where Remus is," she said softly.

McGonagall turned, and Draco's brow creased.

God, no. He would not put up with _Lupin_ as a fucking mentor.

"Why haven't you said so?" gasped McGonagall. "I thought he left... and Teddy..."

Andromeda looked down at the baby, smoothing his hair off his forehead. "He comes every few weeks to see him." Her voice was so quiet Draco had to strain to hear her. "He tries, Minerva. Even I have to admit that. But he can't... he's too upset to..." She pressed her lips together, shaking her head.

Draco felt his throat close up. He looked down at his hands.

"And Severus?" Dumbledore's smooth, authoritative voice echoed around the room.

Draco closed his eyes, not daring to hope.

"No one's heard from him," said Potter. "We've tried. No owls get through, no tracing spells work."

"Well," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling, "I might be able to help with that. Moreover, if you start with one, I think you might just discover you have a way to convince the other."

***

Severus felt the edge of the wards shift with the energies of someone Apparating nearby. He looked up from his work, arms locked on the table and shoulders hunched. He waited a moment, and then cast a few spells in the direction of the door.

When he saw who it was, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Eight months of freedom, no more, no less – three of them recovering from the effects of too many blood transfusion potions and five trying to get away from everyone who wanted something from him now that he was healthy. So much for his sanctuary.

He glanced briefly at the crumpled pages of the _Daily Prophet_ spread out on a side table next to a cold cup of coffee. Draco's face looked back at him from under the headline about scanty resources for Minerva's ill-fated brainchild, this asinine mentoring program. The boy managed to look both terrified and furious; it must have been a shot captured as he'd emerged from the courtroom in the weeks after the final battle.

Severus sighed, setting his stirring rod down and running his hand over his mouth. Through the revealing spell, he watched Minerva pace on the front step, looking for a way in.

Finally, he waved his wand again and indulged a smile at the look on her face, when his door spelled out the word _NO_ in big, black letters.

***

"I'm sorry, Andromeda, I just can't today. I'm not feeling–"

Remus stopped in mid-sentence as he opened his front door. He stared at the trio in front of him, his mouth open.

"Surprise," drawled Draco Malfoy, his hands shoved in his pockets. Beside him, Neville Longbottom stared at his feet, shuffling them from side to side through the layer of leaves on Remus's little porch. And behind them, Minerva stood tall, her chin raised.

Remus's brain caught up. He still read the papers, after all. He knew exactly what he'd been turning his back on. He began to shake his head. "No, Minerva. I'm sorry, but no."

"Hear me out."

"Look, I sympathise, but honestly, it's just not something I–"

"I told you this was stupid," muttered Draco. "Come on, Longbottom. I'd rather get lost in these fucking woods with _you_ for the rest of the weekend than stand here like a pile of dog shit on _his_ front porch." He turned dramatically and stormed down the step, while Neville gave Remus a helpless look.

Remus sighed, running a hand over his face. Dammit. He needed time away from all of this. Why couldn't they get that? He'd thought Andromeda had understood; he was just trying to get his head on straight, trying to figure out what to do next. Flashbulbs in his face every day, asking about Tonks and Teddy... It had all been too much.

"Draco," he called wearily. "Your aunt brought me some chocolate biscuits last she was here. I can't eat them all myself." He avoided Minerva's gaze.

Draco paused halfway down the lane. "I hate chocolate."

This time Neville rolled his eyes. "You do not, Malfoy," he called back. "Get back here and have a bloody biscuit with Professor Lupin. _Then_ I'll go get lost in the woods with you." As if only belatedly hearing the implication in the words, Neville's ears turned bright red, just as Draco glanced back at him, smirking.

"I'm not a professor," sighed Remus, but he stood aside to admit them, hoping they'd forgive the dishes piled in the little kitchen and hoping he hadn't left any porn lying around on the sofa.

He made tea and rooted around in his cupboards for an entire four cups that weren't chipped, then dumped some of Andromeda's old biscuits on a plate. Even as he did so, his hands began to tremble and a flash of panic tore through him. Christ. He wasn't _ready_. Why couldn't Minerva see that – or Dumbledore's bloody portrait, who had surely put her up to this? Mentoring the kids who'd fought... yes, yes, it was an admirable idea. But Remus hadn't been anyone's mentor for a long time, if ever.

He couldn't even raise his own son. How was he supposed to know what to say to either of these kids?

He sat down with them, nibbling nervously on a stale biscuit and ignoring the way Draco made a face as he bit into one. He focused instead on Neville, the one student other than Harry who really had earned Remus's sympathy when he'd taught at Hogwarts. He was such a nervous boy, and looking at him now, Remus felt a surge of sorrow for him. He looked terrible, with dark circles under his eyes and a gaunt look to his usually solid frame.

Remus knew what that likely meant. He was no stranger to nightmares himself. The boy wasn't sleeping, and if the way he was picking at that plate was any indication, he wasn't eating, either.

"All right?" Remus murmured quietly to him, while Minerva chastised Draco for throwing a biscuit behind the sofa.

Neville glanced up at him as if surprised by the question. "Oh. Sure. Yeah. Er– how are you?"

Remus held his gaze for a moment before dropping it and looking at his hands. "Fine."

To his surprise, Neville laughed softly, nudging his arm. "Well, then. We're both just fine. That's good."

When Remus raised his eyes again, he had to smile at Neville's knowing look. "It's hard," he murmured, "isn't it?"

The grin faded from Neville's face. He pressed his lips together and only nodded, unable to speak.

When he looked up again, Minerva was watching him. He sighed, settling back against the old sofa cushions. "Oh, all _right_ ," he muttered. "What do they need to do, come to tea once a week?"

"Ugh, I'm not coming back _here_ ," Draco said loudly, lifting his chin as he looked around. "I demand _real_ biscuits and espresso from my mentor meetings."

"Oh, hush, Malfoy," Minerva shot back, but her eyes were on Remus. "That's wonderful, Remus, but actually, that's only half the reason I'm here. The coordinates Albus had just aren't getting me close enough."

When she told him the other half, he only stared at her, stunned, for a long moment. Then he began to laugh.

***

When they got back to Hogwarts, Draco stood awkwardly with Longbottom at the foot of the great staircase.

"Well," Longbottom ventured. "That was... strange."

Draco bit out a laugh. "Yeah. That's an understatement."

Longbottom glanced over at him shyly, grinning. "You think he'll be able to do it?"

Draco pressed his lips together. It was too much to hope for, but he didn't need Longbottom to know how much he wanted it. He shrugged. "Probably not. Snape's biggest regret of all seems to be actually living through the fucking war."

"Yeah." Longbottom visibly tensed at the sound of Snape's name, and Draco sighed.

"He's not the devil, you know."

"What? I know that."

"Then why've you always been such a baby around him?"

Well, _that_ was the wrong thing to say – or the right one, depending on your point of view. Longbottom drew himself up and squared his shoulders, pinning Draco with a glare. "He's a heartless prick," he said slowly, enunciating every word. A shiver passed through Draco at this version of Longbottom, angry and even a bit _hulking_. "I don't care what he did in the war, and I'm glad you like him so much, but if Professor Lupin can actually convince him to do this, then, he's all yours, Malfoy."

"Fine," Draco snapped, turning to head back to their dorm, furious with the flush he could feel rising on his cheeks. "Enjoy your shitty biscuits with the werewolf every week."

***

They were coming for him again. Neville thrashed in his sleep, the shapes twisting and the colours swirling around his head. He couldn't breathe. They were too close.

He'd almost given up, doing everything he could just to keep breathing and not drown in terror, when a new figure emerged at the corner of his vision. He was in shadow, tall and proud with fine features in profile, but even without being able to see him, Neville felt a jolt of calm like warm water through his body.

He opened his eyes abruptly but with certainty, the fright with which he awoke most nights draining free of him and leaving him with a sense of inexplicable safety.

***

Once more, Severus felt his wards shiver. Twice in one week. Minerva must be desperate.

Just as he raised his wand to send her off again, however, a polite cough echoed behind him. He turned slowly, wand still raised, and narrowed his eyes.

"Hi. Sorry. I know it's not full moon yet, but–"

"You thought you'd break into my house anyway?" Severus lowered his wand, regarding Lupin, who only ducked his head down and ran a hand through his hair, smiling.

"Something like that."

"This isn't Diagon Alley. You cannot come by anytime you please."

"I know."

"I said you could come the night before you need the Wolfsbane, and that was _it_."

"I know."

"Even _that_ is a tremendously generous gesture on my part, you have to admit."

"It is, Severus. I appreciate it."

Severus wet his lips, trying – for the thousandth time since those long nights in meetings at Grimmauld Place – not to look at Lupin and let himself drift into fantasy... the arch of Lupin's back underneath him, or the way he would growl into Severus's skin before he came. It had never amounted to anything before Lupin's stupid _marriage_ , and it wasn't likely to amount to anything now. "Is it the night before you need the Wolfsbane?" he asked instead.

"No. It isn't."

The idiot was still grinning at him, like this was a game. Severus leaned back against his workbench, folding his arms over his chest. His sleeves were rolled up and his collar loose – not exactly the sort of disarray he wished Lupin to see him in. He glared. "Then what, pray tell, are you doing here?"

Lupin moved over to the table by the window, pulled out a rickety old chair, and sat down. He looked down at his hands for a moment before raising his eyes to Severus again. "Just wanted to say hello." He gave another faint smile.

Severus lifted his chin. "Get out."

Lupin laughed. "All right, all right. I didn't want to say hello. You're still a prick and I can do without you."

"That's better." Severus sighed, regarding him. "All right, then. Out with it. I'd be doing good for my community, is that what she wants you to say?"

"Something like that."

"I'd be... let's see..." Severus scratched at the stubble on his chin. "...helping a lost young man find his path. Avoid falling into hooliganism."

"Hmm. I hadn't heard that one, actually. But with a kid like Draco, that's certainly a concern." Lupin settled back in his chair.

"Don't know why they even care so much about him," grumbled Severus, looking away. "They could have thrown him to the wolves months ago." He paused. "Pardon the expression."

Lupin held up his hands. "They didn't, though," he pointed out. "I'm pretty sure Minerva's been fighting an uphill battle with him, too, keeping him in the program like this. He doesn't want it, and no one else is likely to, either."

"You've seen him?"

Lupin nodded. "Briefly."

"And?"

Lupin regarded him. "If I told you he was hurting, would it make a difference?"

Severus's chest tightened. That damn boy had already been through too much. Severus could _kill_ Lucius for putting him through it all, and at his age. It wasn't right.

"He insulted the quality of my biscuits," said Lupin, rolling his eyes. Severus snorted. After another quiet moment, Lupin added, "He misses you."

Severus lowered his eyes. "Rubbish."

"He needs you."

Pursing his lips, Severus glared. "What, in all our previous acquaintance, has led you to possibly believe that playing to my heartstrings is the best approach here?"

Lupin gave a faint smile, but he rose from his chair and headed for the door. "Just think about it."

When he was gone, Severus stood there a long time, watching the sunlight creep across the cold, stone floor.

***

Draco stood at the corner of the room, shifting from one foot to the other and almost bursting with questions. A few paces away, Snape stood very still, his hands folded neatly in front of him as he looked around the rebuilt staff room.

Just his being there calmed Draco in ways he hadn't thought possible. Maybe he could do this after all. Maybe, with Snape around, it would be okay. He'd have an ally, at least, which would be something completely different from the last eight months with Gryffindors and even those fucking Hufflepuffs on his arse all the time.

Longbottom sat on a sofa in the centre of the room, kneading his hands. His head shot up when the door opened to admit Lupin. They headed towards one another and shook hands, then hugged each other, relief etched all over Longbottom's face even as he tried to hide it. As he watched, Draco found himself inexplicably pleased for Longbottom. He'd had a rough go of it; even Draco could admit that. The least Hogwarts, or the Ministry, could do for the bastard was provide him with a decent mentor in return for chopping the head off that fucking snake.

One would have to have a pretty good arm to swing a sword like that, Draco had found himself thinking on more than one occasion, taking the opportunity now to appraise Longbottom's solid biceps and chest under his worn t-shirt. He was still too thin for his frame, but with a few good meals in him...

Snape cleared his throat, making Draco jump. He almost had a _smirk_ on his face, dammit, as he eyed Draco.

"Distracted, are we?" he asked in a low voice dripping with amusement.

Draco felt his face go hot. "Hardly." He looked away. "Just wondering how long we have to sit here with _them_ –" he motioned at Lupin and Longbottom – "before you can buy me a firewhisky."

Snape's amused look only deepened. "I believe there's an expression about hell freezing over."

Draco smiled. "It's good to see you."

"Hmph." Snape gathered his cloak around himself, but his gaze was on Lupin and Longbottom too.

"Right, then." McGonagall swept into the room at last, a clipboard in her hand and her glasses perched low on her nose. "Thank you for coming, gentlemen. You have presumably read the Survivor League handbook?

Everyone nodded, and Draco thought he caught Snape closing his eyes briefly as though counting to ten.

"Good. The rules are easily summed up: no exchange of money, no conspiring to harm each other or anyone else, and..." She cleared her throat. "... no, ah, _fraternising_ between mentors and their students."

Draco could have sworn she glanced at _him_ after each item on the list. He folded his arms over his chest and glowered at her. Lupin looked a little bit nauseated at that last rule, and when Draco tried to flash Snape a charming smile, he only gave Draco a withering look.

"I think we can handle that," said Lupin, possibly sensing that Snape was about to storm out the door if they didn't get this over with soon. "Neville," he said brightly, turning to Longbottom, "shall we start with a cup of tea up in Hogsmeade?"

Longbottom gave him a shy smile, and _oh_ , that was slightly more adorable than Draco had been prepared for. He looked away, shifting his gaze to Snape.

"Will you buy _me_ a cup of tea in Hogsmeade, sir?" he mocked, batting his eyelashes.

Snape rolled his eyes. "I believe I was just told not to spend any money on you," he shot back, and Draco frowned.

"Not so fast, Remus." McGonagall squared her shoulders as if gearing up for a fight, and then pointed at Draco. "You will be mentoring Mr Malfoy. Severus, you will take Mr Longbottom."

All four men fell silent.

Draco looked at Snape for direction, but his chest was rising and falling rapidly and his eyes were on the floor. Without a glance at Draco, he muttered a few choice words and strode across the room, flinging the door open and storming out.

Lupin put a hand on Longbottom's arm and whispered something to him before he followed Snape out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Draco cast an apprehensive look at Longbottom, who was already looking back at him. He gave Draco a tight smile.

"No, Malfoy," he said, sighing, "he's not a prick at all. What was I thinking." He leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes.

"Just wait a moment, Longbottom," said McGonagall with a practiced arch of her neck. "They'll be back."

***

"Severus! Dammit, _wait_." Remus jogged down the hall after him, grabbing his arm as he tried to turn a corner.

Snape shook him off, turning on him with blazing eyes. "I had my peace," he snarled. "I agreed to talk to Draco, that was all. You will not rope me into this bleeding hearts club for _Longbottom_ of all people."

"How can you say that?"

"Oh, I suppose you're just delighted to come out of your self-imposed exile to nurse Draco back to emotional health?"

"Well, I–" Remus paused, pressing his lips together. "We'll deal with them together, then. Surely Minerva can't object to that."

Snape sighed, but he turned, pressed his fingers against his eyes, and then walked back in the direction of the staff room.

"Longbottom," he bellowed when he got there. Draco and Neville had been talking quietly on the sofa, Minerva gazing out the window, but Neville jumped as Snape stormed back in.

"Sir?"

"Don't call me that, you idiot. Now. Answer the following question correctly, and I will consider taking you on."

"It isn't a job application, Severus," Minerva pointed out.

"It is a _character_ application."

Neville, bless him, lifted his chin. "She's right; I don't need to apply for anything." His voice wavered, but only a little. "But I'll play. What's your question?"

Snape folded his arms. His robes weren't as formal or severe as when he'd taught there, but he was immaculately dressed and was still a force to be reckoned with. "Why did you kill Nagini?"

Neville didn't hesitate. "Because Harry told me to."

"Wrong!"

Minerva, Draco and Neville all widened their eyes at the same time, but Remus only rubbed his forehead, weary.

"Let me rephrase," said Snape. "Would you have killed Nagini if Harry _hadn't_ told you to?"

Neville paused, but then he folded his arms over his chest, matching Snape's pose, and levelled a gaze at him. "If a snake was coming at me and I had a sword in my hand already, would I have killed it anyway, sir?" Remus couldn't tell if he was imagining the mocking note in Neville's voice or not. "Yeah. I think so."

"If you didn't already have the sword?"

"Yes."

"If you didn't know the snake was unfriendly?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Neville was breathing hard, but he held Snape's eyes. "It was the middle of a battle. The odds that the snake was _friendly_ were not high." He furrowed his brow. "Sir."

Remus hid a smile.

Snape was quiet for a moment, but he unfolded his arms and began to pace the room, his eyes on the floor. "Mr Longbottom," he said at last, and Neville sighed in response. Snape stopped pacing and looked up. "Do you have any idea how many years I spent wishing I could chop the head off that fucking snake? I don't suppose you could have done it an hour earlier, though."

The room went silent, until a grunt of laughter from Draco eased the tension. With a shy grin, Neville turned and swatted Draco's knee.

Snape approached Neville and held out his hand. As Neville shook it, Minerva caught Remus's eye and winked.

***

After more than a month of twice-weekly meetings with the idiot – most of which had consisted of asinine small talk about the weather or Quidditch – Draco had amended his opinion of Lupin. It wasn't that he was offensive or cruel or anything.

He was just really fucking _boring_.

If Draco was going to be forced to abide this, there had to be a way to make it more interesting. He leaned forward in his chair, helping himself to another lump of sugar for his tea while the quiet of the staff room bloomed around them. "So," he said, taking a sip. "Why did you abandon your son?"

Lupin went stock still, the colour draining from his face. "Excuse me?" He managed not to raise his voice, which Draco thought was rather admirable.

"You know. The one my aunt's raising? I was just wondering why he's not with you."

Lupin regarded him for so long that Draco's confidence began to crumble. He shifted under that gaze, suddenly uncomfortable. "And what," Lupin said at last, "do you suppose you know about it?"

"It's not meant to be a difficult question," muttered Draco, but now he wished he could change the subject.

"It's not any of your business."

That struck a nerve, though. "Well," he huffed, "maybe I don't think my shit's any of _your_ business either, but I've got to sit here and tell you about it, don't I?"

Lupin stared at him for a moment, but then he almost laughed. He set his mug down and scrubbed at his face. "Yes. All right. That's fair enough. We can draw the line wherever you like." He paused. "Schoolwork?" he ventured.

Draco sighed. "Fine."

"Your family?"

"Fine. I guess. But there's not very much to say about that. My turn." He sat forward. "Your marriage."

Lupin glared. "That's where the line is."

"Ugh, all right. You're no fun." He thought about it. "Your job, or lack thereof?"

Lupin grumbled. "Fine."

"The wretched state of your clothing?"

Lupin almost smiled, taking another sip. "Fine."

"Your pathetic crush on Snape?"

Wetting his lips carefully, Lupin glanced up at Draco, trying very obviously not to look surprised or offended. He narrowed his eyes. "Fine," he said at last.

Draco's eyebrows shot up.

"There's nothing to talk about," he clarified, "and I don't know what you think you see."

Draco laughed. "You're joking, right? You two might as well fuck each other right there on the chair, every time you're in the same room together!"

"My turn," Lupin muttered. He held Draco's gaze again, though, his eyes dark. "On a scale of ninety to a hundred," he began, "what percentage of your nightmares involve Fenrir Greyback?"

Even the mention of the name sent a cold shudder through Draco's body. His heart started hammering, and he struggled to keep calm. "Line," he finally whispered, lowering his eyes.

After a long moment, Lupin nodded.

***

Severus stood at the back of the staff room, silently judging everyone else there.

Shacklebolt looked far too pleased with himself. He must be fucking his precious mentee to be _this_ enthusiastic about the program. Pomfrey was knitting. Bill Weasley was prowling around the edges of the room, unable to sit still. Andromeda Tonks sat in the corner with Lupin and his baby, bouncing it gently and rubbing its back while Lupin awkwardly touched its little fist, asking Andromeda a million questions.

Severus lowered his eyes.

Minerva brought the meeting to order and checked in with each of the mentors. None of the students seemed to be having any problems whatsoever, leading Severus to assume each and every one of these mentors was full of complete shit.

"And you, Severus?" She turned to him, along with all other pairs of eyes in the room. "How are you faring with Mr Longbottom?"

He caught Lupin's eye and couldn't miss the concern there. Merlin. Did none of them trust him not to damage that blasted boy even further? "He is recovering well," he said instead, lifting his chin.

"Really?" Lupin piped up, the baby in his arms now.

"Yes, really, Lupin," Severus snapped. "Is that so hard to believe?"

Lupin narrowed his eyes. "Yes," he said slowly, "it _is_. What do you talk about?"

"Remus," Minerva interrupted, "each mentor's strategies are their own. I'm sure Severus is–"

"Well, I'm not sure at all." He handed the baby back to Andromeda and rose. "You know Neville's terrified of you," he said to Severus.

"He's terrified of everything," Severus shot back. "Do you think I'm doing that boy any favours by sending him out into the world with a hug and a pat on the back? He's scared of his own fucking shadow."

"Have you even tried to ask him why?"

"I don't care why!"

"No," said Lupin, exasperated as he ran his hands through his hair and tugged. "You don't. That's exactly the problem."

"I said he's doing fine," said Severus, his jaw tight. "And how is Draco, Lupin?" he added. "Have you got him to stop insulting you every five seconds and actually pay you any respect?"

Lupin's face flushed.

"Being 'polite' to that boy isn't going to get you anywhere, you know. He needs to be a little bit afraid of you to get any results."

Lupin glared. "Thank you, Severus. As always, your pedagogical experience with inciting terror is very much appreciated."

"Gentlemen!" Minerva's voice rang out, magically enhanced. She turned to Severus. "Longbottom has not actually complained about you yet, which may or may not mean he's too terrified to do so." She levelled a glare at him before turning to Lupin. "And Draco has not driven you away yet, which is an improvement over every other mentor we've tried to pair him with." She stepped back to address the rest of the group. "We will report back next month to see if there are any problems. Remember, keep them talking! At their age, their instinct is to shut down and bottle it all up." She sighed, rubbing her eyes under her spectacles. "I _will_ make sure those children recover if it's the last thing I do," she muttered to herself.

***

They sat on the front steps of the castle in the dark, Severus leaning over with his elbows on his knees as he lit a cigarette. He took a deep drag before turning to Longbottom.

The boy was staring straight ahead, not looking at him. Severus held out the fag. Glancing over at him, Longbottom took it and fiddled with it in his fingers for a moment before lifting it to his mouth. If Severus expected coughing and sputtering, he was surprised. With practiced ease, Longbottom blew a stream of smoke out of the side of his mouth, then handed it back to Severus.

"Thanks."

"What other filthy habits of yours should I be encouraging?" Severus brought it to his own lips again, letting the smoke soothe and wash through him.

Longbottom gave him a tiny smile. "Spent a lot of time with Aberforth last year," he said. "Enough said."

"Ah. Indeed." He paused. "Tell me why you're afraid." His voice was low in the night air, and he saw Longbottom shiver.

"I'm not."

Severus said nothing, just took another deep drag.

Longbottom turned to him. "Tell me why you hate me."

The smoke curled up into the night, and Severus tapped the cigarette on the step. "I don't hate you."

Longbottom scoffed. "Right. That's what Remus said, too. I'm not stupid, you know."

"Remus should keep his opinions to himself, in general, but on this one, you should listen to him."

"Why do you hate _him_? Because he's a werewolf? That's a pretty stupid reason."

"You've a lot of opinions tonight," Severus shot back, leaning back on the step and stretching his legs out.

"Tell me why you hate Remus, and I'll tell you what I'm afraid of." To Severus's surprise, the boy held his gaze, although his chest was rising and falling like he'd just run a mile.

"All right." He tapped the cigarette again. "He makes poor decisions."

"... that's it?"

"It's a start."

"But... he's kind. And he does the best with what he has, tries to make a life from a terrible situation." Longbottom gazed out into the night. "And he's lost everyone," he added quietly. "Don't you... doesn't that outweigh any bad decisions?"

Severus tried not to think of the curve of Lupin's mouth or the way his hair fell into his eyes when he laughed. He hadn't lost _everyone_. Not if he'd just open his eyes. Severus returned his focus to the topic at hand. "Why are you afraid?"

"Don't change the subject yet."

"Why are you afraid?" Severus raised his voice a fraction.

"Just, it's not that I'm–"

" _Why are you afraid_?"

"Stop it. I don't know. I don't–"

" _Neville_." Severus let his voice ring out. "What are you so fucking afraid of?"

"That it's never over!" he shouted, jumping to his feet. "We think we've won, we think we're safe, and then _Crucio_ comes at you in the middle of the street and you might as well be dead. And you're not ready for it because it's supposed to be _over_." His hands clenched into fists. "I have to be ready for it. It's never over. Never." He sank back down a few steps below, breathing hard.

Severus didn't speak for awhile, but he kept smoking and staring out at the night. "I wish I'd known your parents," he said at last, and Longbottom's head jerked up. "I wish I could have done something."

Longbottom just stared at him, and after a long pause, he nodded. "Thanks."

Severus threw the butt down and stamped his boot over it. "Take it from someone who was there last time," he said, his voice firm. "Now? It's over."

***

Severus walked Longbottom back into the castle, waving his wand to get through the big front door and earning a tiny smile from the boy at the advanced magic.

Longbottom gave him an awkward wave at the door to the eighth years' dorm, then went down the hall. Severus retreated to the nearby antechamber to gather himself for a moment. God, thinking about Frank and Alice Longbottom had not really been on the list of things he'd been eager to do tonight. He felt a bit sick.

He saw Lupin already sitting there, leaning back in an oversized armchair with his hands folded across his stomach and his eyes closed. To say he was underdressed would be generous: he wore an old t-shirt, tight at the cuffs around his biceps and with the peeling letters of the Weird Sisters logo splashed across the front. His jeans were frayed at the bottom, and his trainers had seen better days. A few days' growth of beard marred his face, but for once he didn't look _homeless_ so much as... at peace. It was oddly comforting to see him this way.

"Go ahead and comment on the jeans, Severus," murmured Lupin, his eyes still closed. "I know you want to."

Severus cleared his throat. "If you want an aristocrat like Draco to take you seriously, I suggest wearing more appropriate attire when meeting with him."

"Oh, Draco takes me plenty seriously now." Lupin opened his eyes. "I'm making him talk about Greyback."

"Ah." Against his better judgement, Snape moved towards one of the sofas and sat down. "That's... brave of you. He allows this?"

"No, not yet. But he will. I think we made progress tonight."

There was something in Lupin's gaze, something warm and heavy in the air between them, and Severus suddenly didn't want to say the wrong thing and shatter it. He only nodded at Lupin and sat quietly, the sleepy castle creaking around them.

Soon, however, the silence was interrupted.

Like a slowly rising din, a series of gasps and shouts came from the boys' dorm. Severus looked at Lupin. It wasn't fighting; it was a nightmare.

"Should I...?" Lupin asked.

Severus shook his head, rising and heading down the hall.

When he peered in the door, his wand out, he immediately held to the shadows.

Longbottom was sitting up in bed, shirtless, with his hands clenched tightly in the sheets around his waist. He was shaking, taking in deep gulps of air through his mouth. The other boys grumbled, but most just grabbed their pillows and pulled them over their heads.

As Severus decided whether or not to leave the boy to recover on his own or to speak to him, he saw another form sit up and climb out of bed. Hesitating only for a moment, he crept across the room to Longbottom's bed.

"Sorry," muttered Longbottom. "I told you I should leave the spells up, so I don't wake you."

"I was awake," Draco whispered. "And what good do they do? You could choke on your tongue one of these nights and we'd never even know it."

That earned him a faint smile from both Longbottom and, to his surprise, Severus, who crept back towards the door as Draco sat down on the edge of the bed. After a moment, Draco reached out to lay one hand tentatively on Longbottom's arm.

Severus couldn't hear what they were saying, but their heads were bowed together, and Draco's hand slid up Longbottom's upper arm, squeezing. Then he touched Longbottom's cheek, his fingers light before they pushed back into Longbottom's hair. They shared a private smile, lips parted, before Longbottom leaned forward and closed the gap between them, brushing his mouth against Draco's. Draco's hands immediately flew up to frame Longbottom's face, a moan sounding throughout the room.

"Now," breathed Longbottom, "maybe, a Silencing spell?"

Draco laughed against his throat. "Yeah."

As Severus drew back, they clung to each other, Longbottom still breathing hard and Draco still murmuring to him between kisses. Longbottom was nodding, a smile tugging at his lips. He paused to swat at Draco's shoulder over something he'd said, but then he was kissing down Draco's neck, and Severus stepped back, closing the door silently behind him.

"We should go," he said to Lupin when he got back to the antechamber.

Lupin blinked at him for a moment before comprehension seemed to dawn. "Do I want to know what you saw in there?"

"Absolutely not."

Lupin laughed. As it faded away, his grin still curving his mouth, he let his gaze fall on Severus and held it. Severus sat down again, his elbows on his knees, and met Lupin's eyes. "Why am I suddenly jealous of a couple of eighteen-year-old boys?" said Lupin quietly.

"I don't know," muttered Severus, glancing down at his hands, "but I am, too. They're about to have rather a good time, I'd wager, and we're left out here like dead old plants to guard the door."

"We don't have to be."

The words were so soft Severus had to lean forward to make sure he heard. Lupin's gaze was heavy on him.

"We used to have something," Lupin pressed on. "Didn't we?"

Severus closed his eyes briefly. God, they'd never actually talked about this, that mad flirtation back at Grimmauld Place. How on earth were they to _begin_ talking about it now? "I don't know," said Severus honestly.

"Sweeping into that house every week looking so severe, like the weight of the world was on your shoulders."

"It was, rather," grumbled Severus.

"I wanted to take your mind off it," murmured Lupin. "I wanted to pin you against the kitchen counter after everyone had left and make you forget everything else."

Severus's breath stuttered in his chest. God, he would have liked nothing more. He groaned, covering his face with one hand. "Don't tell me that _now_."

"What have I got to lose?"

"I would have let you," added Severus, and it was Lupin's turn to groan, his legs falling to each side as he slumped down in the chair. "You've always made terrible decisions, you know."

Lupin barked a laugh. "Thank you, yes. I know that."

Severus hesitated. This was dangerous territory. "She was... pretty. I'll give her that."

Lupin's face instantly sobered, his lips pressed together. "She was persistent, Severus. That's all. And, as you point out, I'm tremendously good at making bad decisions."

"You have a son," murmured Severus. "That's where your focus needs to be."

"Thank you, yes," Lupin snapped, the same words but with much more venom. "I _know that_."

The silence stretched between them, until Severus couldn't take it anymore. He rose and headed for the door. "Well. I'm not sitting here like a pervert while our young charges are fucking down the hall. Goodnight, Lupin." He waited a fraction of a second to see if Lupin would stop him.

But Lupin was only staring straight ahead, his jaw tight. "She should have stayed home," he whispered. "She only went that night because of me."

It took a moment for Severus to catch up, and when he did, he lowered his eyes. "Rubbish," he called from the door, his voice low. "She was an Auror. You were the one who should have stayed home."

Lupin looked up at him, his mouth open. Finally, he took a deep breath. "There was never supposed to be a baby. Don't," he added, holding his hand up. "I know what happens when boys and girls get naked together, Severus. Spare me the sarcasm. I mean that I wasn't ready." He swallowed. "That I'll never be ready."

"The funny thing about that one, Lupin, is that none of that fucking matters anymore. The baby's here, and he needs you."

Lupin said nothing more, only clasping his hands together over his knees and gazing at the floor.

"Goodnight," said Severus quietly, slipping out the door.

***

Neville hadn't had a nightmare in over a week. Well, he wasn't dreaming about daisies and puppies just yet, but he wasn't paralysed with fear every night, either.

Maybe there was a reason for that. He could hardly hold in his smile whenever he thought of it. That night, Draco had flopped down to the bed beside him afterwards, sweaty and panting, throwing an arm over his eyes and mumbling with a happy sigh about how _strong_ Neville was as he drifted off. Neville let him stay; usually they crept back to their own beds after... whatever they'd been doing, just in case Harry or Ron or the others woke up and had a few too many questions. But tonight Neville was too tired.

He fell asleep with Draco breathing rhythmically beside him, warmed by the press of Draco's thigh and the weight of Draco's arm across his chest.

As soon as sleep enveloped him, however, he knew that something was wrong. It was like he was conscious but unconscious at the same time, watching the faces in his nightmare brighten and move closer, even as he tried to tell himself it was just a dream, it wasn't real.

It was _over_. Wasn't that what Snape had said? He could stop being afraid now, because it was all over.

But he was still running. Oh God, he was running as fast as he could, but they were closing in on him, crowds of creatures thundering behind him, faces cackling, and his lungs burned as he tried to get away. Then Draco was beside him, and Neville nearly sobbed in relief. Draco grabbed his hand and they ran together, peeling through fields and splashing through marshes, but they couldn't stop; if they stopped, they'd die.

Of that, Neville was certain. And he wasn't going to let that happen to Draco.

In the distance, he saw a figure begin to emerge. Robed in black, it had a severe if blurred face, tall and proud. Draco urged him to run towards it, and he trusted Draco, didn't he? They scrambled up a hillside, and the face came into focus. It was Snape, screaming at them to hurry, fucking run as fast as they could and not look back, but then Snape's face shifted. He was looking at something behind Neville, his face twisted in fear.

Neville tried to call out to him, tried to reach him, to save him, but as he watched in horror, Snape fell to the ground, the earth swarming him and swallowing him up, and –

Neville sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath and feeling the scream die on his tongue.

"Hey. Hey. Fuck. Jesus. You scared the shit out of me." Draco panted beside him, swallowing hard as he put a trembling hand on Neville's back.

Neville batted him away and jumped out of bed, still clutching his chest for breath. "Snape," he managed, and Draco's eyes widened. "He's in trouble."

***

His Floo was blocked, Remus remembered, as he tried to figure out why someone was pounding on his front door like they were about to be eaten by a bear.

"All right, hold on," he muttered, pulling a t-shirt over his head and padding out to the front room in his pyjama bottoms. He cast a spell on the door and saw Neville and Draco outside, hammering at the door like their lives depended on it. He opened the door and they spilled inside.

At the look on Neville's face, Remus's heart started to pound. "What is it? What's happened?"

Neville couldn't speak, but Draco gave Remus a pleading look. "He had another nightmare," he said quietly. "He's convinced Snape's in danger." Remus couldn't quite tell from Draco's tone whether Draco believed it or not, but Neville was pale as a ghost, his eyes bright and haunted as he clutched Draco's hand.

"All right," said Remus. "Okay. Just calm down."

"Don't know where he lives," Draco added, his face drawn with concern and his eyes shifting between Neville and Remus. "Unplottable."

"Yes. Okay. I know where it is. Just sit down." He gestured at the living room. He caught his breath and steeled himself. Odds were that this was nothing, just part of the boys' recovery, he told himself. But what _if_... a tiny voice supplied in the back of his head. The war had not been over long. Any number of former enemies could have come out of the woodwork, gearing straight for Severus. "Stay here," he ordered them. "If I'm not back in thirty minutes, go get McGonagall. She knows the coordinates. Understood?"

They nodded, gazing at him with wide eyes, and Remus tried to gather his wits.

"I'm sure it's nothing," he added. He grabbed his wand and stuffed his feet into a pair of boots, Apparating to Severus's doorstep.

When he saw that the front door was slightly ajar, his breath caught in his throat.

Wand out, he pushed it open and crept inside. There was no sound or light. Cautiously, he cast a few diagnostic spells to determine the presence of an intruder or magical field, but everything came back clean. He pushed his hand through his hair, finally casting a _Lumos_ spell in the front room.

"Severus?" he called.

The door swung open. "What?"

Exhaling in relief, Remus watched as Severus strode through the door, a beaker of dark green sludge in his hand. He set it on his worktable and took his cloak off, throwing it onto a side chair and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. He glanced up at Remus again.

" _What_?" He blinked. "Did you want something? Only it's about two in the morning, Lupin."

Remus choked out a laugh, running his hand over his face. "Hornbeam bark?" he ventured, gesturing at the beaker.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Why would I have to gather _hornbeam bark_ at two in the morning?"

"I don't know. Christ. Look, are you all right?"

"Am I all _right_? Lupin–"

"Shut up," Remus sighed, laughing with his hand over his face. Everything was fine. The war was _over_ , and Severus was alive, undamaged, and... right where Remus had left him when he hadn't had the courage to make a move three years ago. "Just shut up. I'm going to kill those fucking kids," he growled.

Severus's eyes darkened as Remus advanced on him, and he didn't resist when Remus hauled him forward, his hands tight in Severus's shirt, and kissed him breathless. He walked them backwards until Severus's back hit the door, and then he felt Severus respond. With a deep groan, his hands flew up to frame Remus's face and deepen the kiss, pressing their bodies together and panting against one another. Remus parted his lips and let his tongue slide against Severus's, every dream he'd ever had of this moment blossoming to life before his eyes.

God, Severus was powerful and commanding and everything Remus had hoped he would be, his mouth ravaging Remus's. He moaned and clung to Severus, a surge of emotion so strong it startled Remus as it crashed through his body.

Severus pulled back a fraction, still breathing hard against Remus's mouth. "What...?"

Remus closed his eyes, his head falling to Severus's shoulder. "Neville and his nightmares." He kept pressing against Severus's body, unable to lift himself away. "He thought you were dead."

Severus made an impatient sound, his fingers deep in Remus's hair. "Fucking _Longbottom_ ," he muttered, and Remus laughed, turning it into a groan as he pulled back at last to look at Severus. "Maybe I should thank him, though," Severus murmured.

Remus smoothed Severus's hair back from his face and met his eyes, as if daring Severus to look away or step back. He didn't. Remus leaned in again, slower this time, and captured Severus's lips. They kissed slowly, deep and with a passion Remus hadn't thought he was capable of anymore. God, he hadn't felt this way, lit up from the inside out, since those nights at Grimmauld Place – watching Severus across the room, hearing his deep voice and imagining pressing him back against the library walls just like this for a quick, desperate fuck.

This felt even better than that, though. Weightier. Like something monumental was shifting between them.

"Fuck," muttered Remus as he pulled back again, trying to swim through the fog in his head. "We have to go back, just for a bit. Show them you're all right. Otherwise we're going to have Minerva in your kitchen in a few minutes looking for our bodies."

Severus groaned, but he gripped Remus's arm and complied.

They landed back at Remus's cottage and Severus stormed inside. "Longbottom," he bellowed.

"Oh God. Oh fuck." Neville had been sitting on the couch, bent over his knees with his head in his hands, while Draco bit his nails beside him. Neville jumped up when Severus entered, both hands tugging at his hair.

"What did I tell you?" shouted Severus, pointing a finger at him.

"Severus, come on. It was a nightmare." Remus grabbed his arm, but Severus shook him off.

"It's _over_ ," continued Severus, but he lowered his voice. His gaze still pierced Neville, though, who was gulping for breath.

Draco jumped to his feet, standing between Neville and Severus. "Don't be a prick," he warned, pointing his finger right back, and Remus nearly laughed. God, what a group of misfits they were.

Severus sighed, gripping Draco's shoulder to push him gently aside. "Yes, Draco, I'm sure his cocksucking abilities are worth defending. But this is between him and me."

To Remus's surprise, Neville squared his shoulders, set his jaw and glared at Severus. "All right," he said, struggling to keep his voice even. "I had a vision you were in danger."

"No, you didn't," Severus snapped. "What was it?"

Neville's eyes dropped. "It was..." He frowned. "A dream. It was... it seemed so real," he added in a small voice, folding his hands over his mouth.

"I know it did," Severus said, his voice surprisingly soft. "But it wasn't."

Remus couldn't take his eyes off him, the way calm authority radiated from him and spread around the room, helping these boys in ways Remus didn't even think Severus realised. Remus's chest tightened with emotion.

"The war is _over_ ," Severus told Neville one more time, enunciating each word. "You fought. You survived." He paused, searching out Neville's gaze. "You _won_."

Neville swallowed hard. Even Draco took a step back when he saw Remus do the same, shooting him a covert glance across the room. Remus nodded to him.

"Say it with me." Severus was still focused only on Neville, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up and his hands sitting low on his hips.

"I... can't." Neville's eyes darted over to Draco.

Glancing back at Severus as if in challenge, Draco walked over to Neville and took his face in his hands, holding his gaze. "He's right," whispered Draco. "Let's say it." He brushed his lips over Neville's, and Remus looked away, smiling. When Draco pulled back, he kept holding onto Neville, their mouths nearly touching. "You won," he murmured.

Neville's hands slid up Draco's chest, and he gave a small smile, seeming to forget Severus and Remus were there. "We won," he whispered.

"Louder," ordered Severus, earning a death glare from Draco.

"We won," said Neville firmly, his grin spreading across his face.

"We fucking _won_ ," said Draco, laughing and kissing him again.

"WE WON." Neville pulled Draco tight into his arms, shouting up at the ceiling.

"Now get the hell out of here," Severus grumbled, nodding at the door with his arms folded over his chest. They stumbled past, arms looped around each other, and Neville gave Severus a sheepish but grateful look. Severus only shoved him on the back of the shoulder to keep going, Draco adding lewd remarks about leaving Severus and Remus alone together.

When they were gone, Remus leaned his hip against the door and regarded Severus. "You're not winning any social worker of the year award, you know."

Severus advanced on him, unbuttoning his shirt, and Remus's breath caught in his throat. "Now you," he muttered, shoving his hands through Remus's hair and anchoring them behind Remus's head. He kissed him fiercely, crushing Remus against the door. "You went through hell and back," he murmured against Remus's lips, "and so did I, but we fucking survived. Why are we living like hermits and monks, pushing each other away?"

Remus moaned, pulling at Severus's shirt. "I don't know," he muttered. "We're idiots."

Severus laughed, deep and sudden, even as his mouth moved up Remus's throat and jaw. "What were you so afraid of three years ago?" he murmured. His mouth moved lower as his hands pulled at Remus's thin t-shirt, his fingers skimming down his ribcage and over his stomach, then dipping beneath his pyjama bottoms without preamble.

"Are you going to – oh, _God_ ," he moaned – "shout at me if I get the answer wrong?"

"Perhaps."

Remus groaned. "I was afraid you'd be the best and worst mistake of my life."

Severus lifted his head and held his gaze for a long, heated moment. Finally, his lips curved. "I don't think that answer's wrong."

Then he dropped to his knees.

With a sharp moan, Remus closed his eyes as Severus took him in his mouth, wet heat enveloping him and sparks of pleasure racing up his spine. He threaded his fingers in Severus's hair and guided him as aggressively as he dared, Severus's hands gripping his thighs. He came with a startled cry, sudden and intense, shuddering at the sensation of Severus's throat working to swallow him.

Slowly, Severus rose to his feet again, making a show of wiping the back of two fingers across his mouth, his tongue sweeping over the corner of his lips. His eyes were dark, and with his shirt unbuttoned, Remus longed to touch him. Severus turned away and pushed his shirt off his shoulders, dropping it on the floor as he sauntered towards the bedroom.

"Get in here, Lupin," he called, as Remus hurried to instruct his jellied legs to catch up. "I will not have _Longbottom_ of all people besting me in number of sexual acts performed tonight."

Remus covered a laugh, pulling his t-shirt over his head as he watched Severus take the rest of his clothes off. Then he pulled Remus down to the bed.

***

Draco was loath to admit it, but the stupid Survivor League hadn't turned out to be quite as horrible as he'd first thought.

As the group gathered for their final meeting of the school year, newly minted diplomas about to go out to the straggling eighth-years who had made it through, Draco settled back on one of the staff room's large sofas, his bare feet in Neville's lap.

He glanced around the room and wondered who else had started fucking each other since the beginning of the year. Well, Shacklebolt and Potter were a given, unless that was just Potter's perverted wishful thinking in those longing looks he kept giving his boss. Pomfrey and Granger? Ew, no. Bill and... he squinted. Well, Bill and Lovegood couldn't keep their eyes off each other either. Wasn't _that_ interesting.

"What are you looking so smug about?" asked Neville, pinching Draco's little toe and giving him a suspicious look. Damn. He knew Draco far too well these days.

"Nothing," he said innocently, moving his foot up to rub his heel against Neville's groin.

" _Stop_ ," he breathed, his glare lust-filled but murderous at the same time. "God," he said with a low laugh, "Snape'll see you and call you out in front of the whole group."

Draco smiled. Yeah. He probably would. But then, Snape should keep his own prick in his pants if he was going to be throwing stones from glass houses. Draco followed Neville's gaze across the room to Snape and Lupin, one with a newspaper in his hands, the other with a baby. It had purple wisps of hair on its head and sat awkwardly on Lupin's lap, but he didn't look as terrified of it as he had a few months earlier. Draco caught his eye and gave him a thumbs up, to which Lupin rolled his eyes.

Maybe the werewolf wasn't so bad after all. He'd convinced Snape to teach Draco to brew the Wolfsbane, which was pretty fantastic as far as impossible potions went. And it was... a bit of control, in its own way. Bloody Lupin and his mentoring. He'd been right, dammit; making the potion, bringing it to Lupin's cottage with Snape at full moon, and fuck, even _petting_ the stupid werewolf that one time, _had_ helped dispel Draco's nightmares about Greyback.

He didn't have time for that shit, anyway. It was more important to keep Neville from kicking him in the balls when one of _his_ nightmares hit, so Draco had his hands full. Neville was already better, though, and as Draco looked around the room, he saw his classmates with more meat on their ribs and colour on their cheeks than he'd seen in a long time.

Snape's hand drifted to rest across the back of Lupin's neck as Lupin propped the baby up on his lap, and Draco pushed down a smile.

Yeah, they all might have had the weight of the world on their shoulders for awhile there, but they'd thrown it off, stomped on the bad guys, and fucking _won_.

They were survivors.

 

-fin-


End file.
